


"Once upon a time..."

by notjustmom



Series: Box of 64 [39]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:21:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: Inspired by a lovely drawing of a young Rosie with John and Sherlock on tumblr, John has read a younger Rosie and Sherlock to sleep on the couch; this story happens when she is nine-ish.





	"Once upon a time..."

"What's wrong, Ro?" Sherlock looked up and yawned at Rosie; he was nearly asleep himself, from rereading an old book on - what the hell was he reading? He searched his curls for his specs, found them and settled them back onto his nose - ah, yes, a treatise on poisonous plants...

Rosie had long passed the age when she needed to be tucked in, or read to, but she climbed onto the couch and settled her head onto Sherlock's lap. "Can't sleep. My head - " she waved her fingers, and John sighed, knowing what that meant all too well. 

John took the ancient tome from Sherlock's hand, laid it on the stack of books next to the couch, and turned off the light.

"Once upon a time..."

"Papa..." Rosie groaned. Sherlock shushed her and she giggled, then settled again.

"Once upon a time, there was a man who was once was a doctor and a soldier - who met another man who had a job of his own invention - he was a consulting detective, which meant he got to help people with their problems - big problems sometimes, other times, they were the most insignificant of problems, like finding a lost cat - yes, you did - there was that long drought, I think it was three months without a single case, even Lestrade was getting bored - it was that summer that was way too hot, even the criminal class..."

"Yes, yes..." Sherlock stifled a yawn - "seven years ago, you were two, Ro. Bad summer...."

"Sorry - anyway, this was meant to be somewhat fictional...."

"Story, Papa -" Rosie rubbed her eyes and snuggled closer to Sherlock. He laid his hand in her curls and was remembering when she was small enough to sleep against his chest.

"Yes. Story. So these two blokes meet as people sometimes do, completely by chance -" Sherlock looked over at him and their eyes met, and John cleared his throat and looked down at his hands. "Or in our case - their case - it was just meant to be. And they became friends, as people do, and after a long time, they fell in love. Some people wondered that it took so long. Other people knew better, knew that they had fallen in love the first time they laid their eyes on the other. But, I - the doctor/soldier bloke was afraid. Afraid the consulting detective would never, could never feel the same way -" He looked up again and saw that Sherlock's head had drooped and that Rosie was snoring lightly. He rolled his eyes and quietly got up from the couch, then picked up Rosie and carried her to bed. As he left the room he heard her mumble, "He always, always knew, Papa."

"Night, Rosie."

"Night, Papa."

John returned to the couch to find Sherlock exactly as he had left him. He sighed, then whispered, "Come on, love, can't sleep out here, bad for your back." He heard Sherlock snort then whisper. "I always knew, John. Even when -" he yawned and looked up at John. "Even when I was - even when I didn't love myself, I knew you did."

"Let me help you up, love." John helped Sherlock to his feet and wrapped his arm around him, as they slowly shuffled off to bed.


End file.
